


Of Flames and Desires

by Arkenshield



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:24:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkenshield/pseuds/Arkenshield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They arrived at Lake-town. The secret door was opened, and Bilbo ventured into the lair of Smaug the Terrible. However, the hobbit ended up discovering something he had not quite anticipated. (Human Smaug X Bilbo)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Revelation

**Author's note: M rated for future chapters**

* * *

Bilbo carefully stepped down the broken staircase, some stone steps crumbled away beneath his feet and the hobbit let out gasps of fright. With a torch burning bright in his hand, and a satchel slung over one shoulder, the hobbit squinted his eyes as he peered into the darkness of the grand hall.

It was not utter darkness, however, as he could make out a warm gleam of light spilling from what he supposed was a connecting room further down into the hall.

Finally, Bilbo managed to arrive safely at the bottom of the staircase. The hobbit let out a sullen sigh, before adjusting his satchel and continuing to step forward stiffly towards the source of light. It was not courage that had pushed him this far, it was a blunt numbness in his heart.

He knew he could not grant what The King desired of him, and for all the tenderness Thorin had been bestowing upon him lately, he felt naught but guilt. He could not return his feelings.

More light was spilling from the room now as Bilbo walked closer. The double doors were tall, and out of sheer madness, the hobbit slipped inside without a second thought.

He only had a second to take in all that was in the room, before having to duck behind a pillar to escape being burnt alive by a trail of scorching flames that immediately seared it way towards where he stood upon his intrusion.

He had not seen the dragon, but he realized it knew he was there, and somehow Bilbo did not feel afraid. His heart sped up in his chest, surely, but the hobbit was no where near as nervous as he was supposed to be, and he did not know why. He was in the same room as Smaug the Terrible! The dragon who razed Erebor to the ground and forced the dwarves to flee for their lives over a hundred years ago!

No, he still was not as terrified as he should be. Bilbo knitted his brows at his own indiffrence and gave his chest a gentle pat as if to check if his heart was still there. Then suddenly, a powerful voice thundered from the center of the room, shaking the very air within it.

"WHO DARES ENTER MY DOMAIN!"

It was now that fear began to clench at his heart. Bilbo piped up to reply back weakly.

"It matters not who I am!" His voice was shrill, "I come here to negotiate with you!"

Negotiate, right. He knew the dragon would not roast him alive with the opening of this offer. With that, Bilbo stepped out from behind the pillar, and turned to face the...-

There was no dragon.

Furrowing his brows, Bilbo adjusted the torch in his hand and started to pick his way towards the center of the hall. The gigantic room was bathed in the luscious glow of thousands and thousands of candles whose glimmers reflected off the piles of gold that floored the room.

Bilbo started his climb onto a pile of goal, his eyes still darting around the hall to check for any movements.

A large diamond chandelier hung from the high ceiling, and Bilbo realized that had this not been a situation where he could be reduced to nothing but a pile of ash at any given moment, he would have complimented the host for their good taste in decorations. Smaug's lair was truly a sight to behold.

Suddenly, Bilbo lost his footing, slipped, and was half buried in the pile of gold. Breath hitched in his throat, and in alarm, he tried to clamber back to his feet.

It was then that a low-pitched mocking laugher sounded right behind him...

Bilbo froze, his heart raced, for it did not sound like the booming voice of the dragon he heard a mere moment ago. The laugh sounded rather... Human.

Biting his lips, the hobbit swallowed slowly and craned his neck back to look at his host.

A surprise gasp escaped his lips.

The  _man_  who towered over him was donned in a long, tri-layer garment made of black leather. Scarlet patterns ran along it, embroidered with intricate threads of gold. The leather clung to his broad shoulders like wings, and cascaded down his majestic form, splaying around his ankles like a waterfall on the mountain of gold he stood upon. His curly locks were black as night, and his slanted fiery golden eyes were striking, like two suns in a roaring tempest.

His tall and imposing figure towered over the little hobbit who scrambled backward on the pile of golden coins that kept drawing him down. Bilbo's eyes were wide in fright as the magnificent stranger bent down to eye level with him.

"And what are you, mortal?"

His voice was deep, low, and velvety. Bilbo gasped, and the stranger licked his lips, eyeing Bilbo with a look close to amusement; the corner of his mouth drew up in a wicked smile.

"Ah, indeed. A halfling."

Bilbo's breath was hitched in his throat, and a question slipped out before he even caught himself.

"Wh...- What do  _you_  know about haflings?"

The stranger's sharp eyes glared like embers.

"There are many things I know about you, Bilbo Baggins."

Bilbo's jaw fell down, almost comically.

"Wait! How did you know my na...-"

"Deduction." His resonating voice echoed within the chamber, silencing the bewildered hobbit.

"D...Deduction?"

The stranger whipped around, his hands behind his back, and started marching in circles without looking at him. It was then that Bilbo managed to clamber to position himself atop the pile of gold again.

"Small in form with short, curly hair, pointy ears, walks barefoot, fury feet. You, mortal, are a hobbit."

Then suddenly the stranger's presence was on him. Bilbo gasped in alarm and fell backward, the man was towering over him with his hands planted on either sides of Bilbo's head, their faces inches apart. The little hobbit trembled as the intense golden eyes glared into his, and words were pouring out from the stranger's lips.

"Your skin is pale underneath your vest." His long finger traced its way down Bilbo's chest where the buttons had become undone, "You have travelled far although you seldom do so - No. In fact, this is your first journey."

The stranger's eyes bore into his as Bilbo gaped, his mystically handsome face now only an inch away from the hobbit's.

"Loose fitting clothes fancied by a  _thin hobbit_? I think not." His soft breath ghosted over Bilbo's lips."You have lost a considerable amount of weight during the past few months but had not the chance to acquire a new set of clothing. Why? You were in a hurry leaving - oh yes, the Shire, and in an even greater hurry traveling. Why?"

The golden-eyed man eyed him with a sidelong glance before pushing himself off of Bilbo, and resumed his pacing.

"Do not think I have not travelled far and wide, halfing. Your jacket is worn beyond repair now but it was well tailored. Only a few families in Westfarthing would be able to afford - oh please don't look surprised. You are neither a Stoor nor a Fallohide, hence Westfarthing. Your tender skin does not speak much of adventure; not a Brandybuck, and is that pride I sense? Yes. You are, or were, a well respected Baggins."

Bilbo pursed his lips to pluck up his courage.

"What about my name?" He asked indignantly. "How did you come by my name?"

"You have lost many pocket handkerchiefs along the way, but a well worn one hanging out of your pocket right now is treasured. Why? Your mother made it for you a long time ago and she even sew your name on it."

Bilbo heaved a sigh of defeat.

"But what made Bilbo Baggins of the Shire leave his warm hole in such a hurry and came all the way here...?" The stranger mused, audibly drawing in a breath, his fingers drumming against the back of his other hand. Then, his brows knitted, and he suddenly whirled back and dashed over to the hobbit. Two pale fingers tugged at the collars of his jacket, and the stranger bent down so close the tip of his nose almost came into contact with Bilbo's neck.

Bilbo felt heat flushing up to his face and neck as he drew his chin up and turned the other way, trying desperately to show that he was not afraid. His heart pounded wildly in his chest.

"You reek of that coward..." He heard the stranger whisper, his breath still hot on Bilbo's neck. "That castaway Prince!"

His pale, yet strong hand grabbed Bilbo's chin roughly, forcing the hobbit to gaze into his amber eyes.

"Tell Thorin Oakenshield that Smaug the Magnificent sends his regards."

Then he leant down, and placed a searing kiss on the hobbit's slightly parted lips.

"Until then, Master Baggins!"

With a gush of wind, all the candles in the hall went out, and Bilbo closed his eyes as a strong gale rushed past him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was outside the secret door. The hobbit blinked, his rosy cheeks still burned, and he lifted a finger up to trace his lips as it felt like they were on fire.

The sun was on the edge of the horizon, radiating its pinkish orange glow against the purple sky. The thrushes were making their ways back to their nests, and the cold evening wind was biting into his skin. Bilbo shivered, not from the cold but from the fire that seemed to have ignited within his chest. He felt his face flushed as the images of that pair of amber eyes roaming his face flushed back into his mental vision; that deep, low resonating voice. Perhaps it also was the enticing peril, the dominating presence, and the temptation to succumb to all that was asked of him.

Had he fallen for the beast?


	2. To Quench His Thirst

**Author's Note: This story is a parody, I don't mean to offend anybody with it. Happy reading!**

* * *

"Bilbo, is everything alright?" A deep voice sounded right behind him, and Bilbo jolted in alarm. Spinning around, he was met with a pair of eyes that were etched deep with worry - the royal blue eyes of none other but Thorin Oakenshield.

It was an expression the Prince had been bestowing upon him quite often, as of late.

"All is well," Bilbo reported with a sigh, before turning back to gaze at the full moon hanging like a lantern above the calm night sky. He was sitting on a high veranda of Bard's house. A gentle breeze sidled by, trailing light kisses on his curly locks which Bilbo then, irritatingly, had to tuck behind his ears.

"No." Thorin's voice was firm as he slid down to sit beside Bilbo. The Prince's warm hand came up to his chin, gently turning Bilbo's face to look at him.

"Not all is well." Thorin's gaze was somber, "You have been keeping silent to yourself since yesterday's evening. By Aulë! I know not what came over me, letting you walk into the lair of Smaug alone."

Bilbo shrugged, trying to ignore that hint of foreign emotion which stir within him at the mention of the beast's name.

"I'm the company's burglar, it was my duty." He stated, "After all, did you not let me come along for this purpose?"

The Prince opened his mouth as if to say something, but after a moment decided against it. Thorin shook his head and smiled gently, before lifting his hand up to stroke one of Bilbo's untamed curls as the hobbit looked away.

"There are many things you do not know of, halfling." He whispered, before rising to his feet, and making his way back into the main hall where the others were gathered.

Bilbo sat alone for a moment, letting the gentle wind blow passed his small form. Smaug was right, he was much too thin to be called a respectable hobbit, but as Bilbo now learnt, being respectable did not mean much if you were constantly on the run for your life in the wild.

They had all entered Erebor that morning while the beast was out hunting. It was the first time Bilbo witnessed the true love dwarves have for gold, for the hall was filled with incoherent euphoric cries and the sound of bodies rolling on the piles of shiny treasure. Bilbo remembered staring incredulously at Dwalin who showered himself with golden coins and dug his face into the mountains of gold, while letting out a very un-warrior like mewl of satisfaction.

A sad melody swept passed his ears, and Bilbo's heart ached by how utterly sorrowful the tune sounded. He closed his eyes with a sigh, letting the beautiful thrumming of the instrument sink into his chest. Although there were no lyrics to accompany it, it sounded as if the song told of a long lost love, or an unrequited one, where the forlorn persona wept alone and lamented for his broken heart.

The music of a lone harp continued to play and, drawn to its bitter-sweet ambience, Bilbo rose, letting his feet carry him after the sound.

They brought him an entrance to a room. Candle light was spilling out from the inside, and Bilbo crept towards the opened door silently, lest the inhabitant of the room should become aware of his presence.

The heart rending music intensified, reaching its climax, and the hobbit felt the rim of his eyes beginning to sting. Bilbo shook his head to rid of the strange emotion, and chanced poking his head into the room. A small gasped escaped his lips when the sight within was revealed.

There sat the mighty King Under the Mountain, alone, amidst the candle light. His arms were wrapped around a beautiful golden harp Bilbo remembered he had once brought out to play at Bag End, and even more fondly the prowess of its master. Thorin's fingers rested on the delicate strings, his deep blue eyes staring into a faraway place Bilbo could not see, and the melancholic tune continued to flow out of the exquisite instrument.

Guilt surged through him, and Bilbo pulled back to rest his head on the wooden wall, lifting his chin up to again let his face bath in the glow of the moon. His hands clenched in tight fists beside him, and the hobbit heaved a sigh in anguish. He could not offer his heart to the King, as much as the other could not reclaim his own.

Thorin was like water. He was strong, fierce, and determined like the cold currents in the vast sea, yet all the same, as gentle and as tender as a stream in summer time.

So was it Bilbo's fault that he was seduced by the fire, that his thirst could not be quenched by water?

For the flame that had ignited within him was searing hot and destructive as much as it burned with passion and ardent, and who was he to deny the pleasure that the entwining pain had to offer?

Turning away from the room, Bilbo slowly made his way back to the veranda where he left his satchel. He knew that the water had drowned his heart in its sorrowful euphony, and as of tonight, only by playing with fire would he be able to rekindle the flame that warmed him.

The poignant music still echoed in his ears long after Bilbo had crept away from Bard's house. Slowly, yet surely, Bilbo began to make his way back to the mountain. This time he would enter through the main entrance, the beast knew who to expect as well as he did.

Once again he stood in the great hall floored with gold coins and flooded with other precious trinkets. The diamond chandelier hung from the high ceiling decorated with paintings, and the excessive number of candles still illuminated the room.

Bilbo looked around the vast room he had not the chance of feasting his eyes on the first time he entered. When he came in with the dwarves that morning, it was dark, and they only had a few torches, so at night when the host lit his fire, it was a truly mesmerizing sight.

"Iron or mithril?" The familiar deep, low voice sounded right behind him, causing the hobbit's heart to skip beat. Bilbo whirled around.

There was no one.

"I'm sorry?" He projected his voice to no certain direction. Bilbo took a step back, his eyes darting around the room, searching for the owner of the voice.

"That mail shirt under your tunic. Is it iron or mithril?" The voice echoed from afar, and the hobbit turned towards the direction, taking another step back.

"Mithril..." His voice was shaky, "But I don't see how that...-"

"Hmmm, mithril, is it?" The voice sounded right above his head, and Bilbo gasped as he felt his back colliding with a strong, warm chest, " _He_  treasures you, does he not?" Smaug voice was low as he whispered.

Bilbo dared not move, but then the man stepped out to stand in front of him. The hobbit looked up.

The dragon was, in a word, truly magnificent.

His deep golden eyes glowed brilliantly on his fair face, contrasting starkly with the midnight black of his hair and the leather gown.

"H...How did you know about my mail shirt?" Dumbstruck, the hobbit finally managed to sputter out. Thorin had gifted it to him this morning when he found it in this very room. Had Smaug noticed this piece of possession missing?

"You have a limp when you walk." Smaug stated, gesturing Bilbo's leg with a skull-headed cane in his hand, "You are either wearing a heavy mail you are yet accustomed to - in which case it would have been iron - or a lighter mail which you are convincing yourself is too heavy, for you do not wish to wear it. You have got a psychosomatic limp. "

After a moment of silence.

"That is..." Bilbo stammered, "Brilliant."

Smaug sent him a sidelong glance, and it was in that moment when all the candles in the room dimmed down.

"You have come here," he began to pace, one hand resting in the other behind his back, "For one purpose, and one alone."

His low voice was sultry, and so absolutely commanding that Bilbo could not keep his lips from voicing a reply.

"I have come here," the hobbit whispered, taking a daring step closer to the dragon. "Hardly knowing the reason why."

He was right, Bilbo hardly knew why he had returned to the mountain, but it was for one purpose, so deeply true, yet so inarticulate...

_In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent._

"Since that moment I first saw you here," Smaug suddenly whipped around and bent down to caress Bilbo's cheek with his long hand, his amber eyes burning with emotions, "I have needed you with me - to serve me, you hear? For my music, my music... What do you think about the violin?"

Bilbo leaned in to the touch with a sigh.

"I much prefer it to the harp." The hobbit smiled.

"I will give you the chance to turn back now," the dragon smirked, both hands now clasping Bilbo's face, his thumb brushing beneath the hobbit's eye, "If you do not like the sound of where this tune is going."

"Now I am here with you, no second thoughts, I've decided," The hobbit reached up to grab the other's hands that held his face and looked up to meet the dragon's eyes. "Decided."

Smaug only grinned, and stepped back, inviting the hobbit to follow with the touch of his hand. Every candle dimmed even more, leaving the entire hall to bathed in the mysterious, warm glow.

"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation." He began to lead the hobbit around the piles of gold, deeper into the hall, "Darkness stirs, and wakes imaginations."

Mesmerized, Bilbo tripped on a vase, but the grip on his hand tightened, preventing the hobbit from crashing into the pile of gold.

"Silently, the senses," The dragon raised his bushy brows at him, "Abandon their defenses... Are you certain you do not wish to return to where all is bright, halfling? Stay here and you shall have to serve  _me_ , and all that is dark."

"Past the point of no return," Bilbo reached up to grip the man's broad shoulder, confidence burning bright in his eyes, "No going back now. Our passion play has now, at last, begun."

"Turn your face away," Smaug nodded his approval, his hand coming up to hold Bilbo's chin, "From the garish light of day. Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light, and listen to the music of the night."

Bilbo closed his eyes and let out a purr as he felt the dragon drawing him in to lean on his broad chest. Smaug's curious hands were trailing his front, touching and caressing and beginning to tear away the obstacle which barred them, until his nails were scraping not his clothes but the mithril mail. The dragon leant down and trailed searing kisses along Bilbo's jaw, leaving the hobbit to shudder, his hands finally roaming to a forbidden place.

"Help me make my music of the night..."

The last candle in the hall went out, leaving the entire room in utter darkness.


	3. Déjà vu

"Okay, you've got questions." His companion said, eyeing the smaller being.

"Yeah. Where are we going?" Bilbo asked, puzzled. They had entered another chamber, smaller, and not completely dark, but still far too dimly lit for him to discern anything.

"My chamber. Next?"

"Who are you?" The hobbit suddenly blurted out, "What do you do?"

He could hear a deep chuckle rumbling in his companion's chest, and Bilbo's face flushed as the side of his hip brushed against the leather cloak Smaug was wearing, reminding him that he had naught covering his own being but the mithril mail and a thin pair of scarlet briefs.

"What do you think?"

"I'd say you're a dragon..."

"But...?"

"But that's already glaringly obvious!"

Although it was too dark to see, Bilbo could sense his companion grinning, and again, he felt heat rising up to his face as memories of moments ago flooded his mind.

His tingling skin still remembered where the dragon's hands had travelled... Everywhere. He was ravished by heated touches in places he did not know was possible for such  _intense_  pleasure to be elicited, much less to cause him to let out exquisite noises he had not know he was capable of producing.

But the dragon had stopped there. It was no more than a game of tease.

And now here they were. The hobbit stumbling through a vast dimly lit hall, guided by the epitome of elegance who steered him in the right directions with his hand placed on the small of his back.

And by the Valars, he would be lying if he said it didn't feel good...

"I am the Great Dragon, the only one in Middle Earth, ."

Bilbo could not help but laugh.

"'Great Dragon?', I do believe you invented the title."

Silence.

Bilbo looked up, and panic suddenly seized him as he saw the dragon's face have become stern as if it was carve out of stone. Had he offended him?

"Sher-...Smaug?"

"I am the last of my kind," Came a whisper, and Bilbo could sense it was touched with a hint of sorrow, "In Middle Earth..."

Silence spread its wings over them again for the hobbit was at loss of words. Bilbo looked up at the dragon's face; candle light washed over his high cheekbones, casting an eerie shadow over his face, and Bilbo could not deny that it did make him look all the more... Attractive.

Before he could help himself, Bilbo had stopped walking and turned towards the taller man, causing Smaug to stop as well. Reaching up, the hobbit traced his fingers gently over the side of the beast's face. Smaug let his eyes fall shut with a sigh, and leaned into the hobbit's gentle caress.

"You are extraordinary." Bilbo whispered, his eyes distant as he took in the dragon's refined features, "You are... quite extraordinary..."

The feeling of a pair of hot lips on his freezing fingers broke the spell that had fallen over Bilbo, and the hobbit shook his head a little to regain his focus on the man before him.

Smaug had caught his hand that was caressing his face and brought them to his lips, a mischievous glint played in his eyes as he looked down at the hobbit. His warm lips traced trails along his knuckles, making Bilbo shiver.

"Smaug...-"

"Shshh..." The dragon shushed him sweetly, his eyes were pool of darkened seduction, "Just wait a little more, we're already here."

Bilbo did not quite know what exactly it was that he was suppose to be anticipating, but as Smaug reached out to turn a door knob Bilbo did not previously notice was there, the hobbit immediately knew that the room lying next door was the dragon's very own chamber.

"It's... It's beautiful!" Bilbo Baggins stammered as the door swung open, and the tall man guided him into a vast room filled with the scent of rose petals. The granite floor was lined with a rich maroon carpet, candelabras stood tall in every corner, and a great big chandelier shimmered brilliantly from the high ceiling. Beside a large fireplace stood an intricately carved bed lined with scarlet satin, so rich, so alluring, and before Bilbo knew it, he was already gently placed onto the smooth and cool fabric.

He sat leaning against the many pillows, letting his eyes trail the graceful movements of the tall figure who moved to the other end of the room. The dragon was silent as he picked something up from the cushions of an armchair. He straightened up, and slid it into the crook of his neck.

Bilbo was about to open his mouth to ask what he was doing, but immediately the hobbit was stunned into silence as the room was at once enveloped by the sweet, silvery notes dancing out of the elegant instrument the one and only consulting dragon was holding.

The melodies like falling silver lulled Bilbo into a half-asleep state. The sweet notes glided like a warm stream over his half-lidded eyes. Bilbo must have fallen asleep at some point during the song, because before he knew it, something cold and smooth was being pressed against his lips.

He lifted up his half lidded eyes, and there was Smaug. The fiddle-like instrument in his hand was gone and the music had stopped. His otherworldly face was close to Bilbo's own, very close. The dragon's rich golden eyes bore into his, so deep, so dark, so... Alluring.

Oh all the things so unfathomable the hobbit could see in them... But does he,  _dare_  he sense -  _possessiveness_?

Bilbo moved his lips to speak, but the something cold and smooth was still being pressed against them. In this half dream state, the small being could only lift up his lashes to send the dragon a questioning glance.

"Drink," Came the deep, sultry voice, "It'll warm you up."

"What's this?" Bilbo finally muttered.

"Just wine. I went to get you some while you drifted off."

"I've never heard of dragons drinking wine."

"You just did. You don't want it?"

"You don't need to keep pleasing me."

He could see a cunning smile catching the corner of the dragon's lips, and Bilbo's heart began to race even harder. The hobbit felt his breath hitching. Those dwarves never said anything about how... Sensual a dragon could be. Furnace with wings? More like a walking epitome of lust.

...If the Respectable Mr. Baggins of Bag End was here to listen to his more than improper thoughts, he would have long been slapped and disowned by himself.

"But pleasing you is all that is on my mind." Smaug droned with a lazy smile, his breath hot against Bilbo's ear. "Drink."

Bilbo pouted, but took the goblet anyway.

"Why? Don't you have anything else to think about?"

"What is it I ought to be thinking about?"

"I don't know..." Bilbo let a small smile play on his lips and tilted the goblet, letting the deeply sweet merlot warm its way down his throat. He almost let out a mewl of satisfaction but stopped himself. The hobbit gasped without thinking. "Breathing fire, perhaps?"

"Ah, breathing fire." Smaug groaned and rolled his eyes, "When it concerns a dragon, that's all they ever think about, isn't it? Breathing. Breathing's boring. Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains. It must be so  _boring_."

This somehow felt a little like a déjà vu. Bilbo itched to open his mouth and retaliate, but the goblet was in his way, so the hobbit decided to finish his wine and set down the goblet with a huff.

There was a moment of silence.

"So..." Bilbo began again, feeling his voice cracking a little and his vision rather hazy. His head was swimming. "How did you find out about our travelling company?"

The dragon grinned, as if he had been asked the best question in the world. All signs of boredom from a moment ago vanished without a trace as he settled down beside Bilbo and began to trace his hand along the line Bilbo's neck.

And the hobbit could not bring himself to swat it away.

"Elementary, my dear Mr. Baggins," He whispered hotly into Bilbo's ear, " _Quite_  elementary..."

Bilbo was not entirely sure when the dragon had removed his long dark cloak, but he was now nestled right against Bilbo on the featherbed; his long legs were stretched on the red satin, and Bilbo could see his well-toned chest rising up and down from underneath the V-necked top.

Smaug's clothing were strange, seeming out of the era almost, but Bilbo could not bring himself to care now that he was feeling so comfortable and warm.

"Hmm..." Smaug hummed as he swung an arm over Bilbo's shoulder and buried his nose into the hobbit's copper curls. He inhaled deeply, "Though I don't suppose you are entirely in the mood of hearing how I figured out your little secret now, am I right?"

Bilbo's fingers that had been playing with the buttons in front of Smaug's tunic stopped immediately, and the hobbit looked up sheepishly with an apologetic grin.

"Sorry," He mumbled with a smile, "Got carried away."

Smaug nibbled at the tip of his pointy ear, and Bilbo let out a high-pitch yelp. He reddened immediately as he felt his stomach doing a flip. Hobbits' ears were very, well...  _Sensitive_.

The dragon chuckled knowingly.

"Would you like me to take this off?"

The offer caught Bilbo off guard. The hobbit looked right at the dragon with his round, dark eyes and blinked in innocent confusion. Although, since his hand was still laid on the dragon's strong chest, it helped only a little with the situation.

Smaug smirked, and began to trail his hand down his front, long fingers gracefully unbuttoning the strange shirt, revealing more and more of his glowing, taut chest.

When the shirt was gone altogether, Bilbo found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the  _glorious_  masculinity before him that seemed to glow in the candle light. The musky scent emanating from the dragon that was so inherently Sher- _Smaug_  was intoxicating him, and before Bilbo knew it, he had dipped his head down to place a kiss right in the middle of the dragon's chest.

Then, it all happened in a blink of an eye. The tall man jerked and gasped hard as Bilbo's soft lips pressed down onto his skin, and as if a bolt had been unscrewed in his brilliant brain, he let out a strangled growled and immediately flipped Bilbo onto his back, clamping his lips right down onto the hobbit's.

Bilbo did not realise when exactly it was that his mithril shirt was thrown off and casted aside. He mewled and writhed in frenzy as the dragon devoured the cavern of his mouth, sucking and licking and kissing mercilessly. Bilbo's fingers were fisted in his captor's curly locks, and he was arching his back into the dragon's body for more contact. The musky scent drowned him, and Bilbo's vision was swirling in the mass of dark hair and glowing, moon-lit skin. Smaug tasted of red wine with a hint of tobacco, and some rich spice Bilbo could not find a name for. And he was so addictive, so delicious, and so impossibly  _everything_  wonderful that Bilbo finally understood how something as important as breathing could be  _boring_.

Finally, however, they broke for air. Bilbo's face was flushed, and his lips were completely bruised and bleeding, but the hobbit could not care less. With his lips parting slightly to let steamy breaths out, his curious eyes trailed along Smaug's chest that was heaving heavily above him. Bilbo's hazy eyes glazed over the detective's perfectly shaped collarbones and the rows of muscles that rippled beneath his abdomen, and he drew his tongue to lick his chapped lips.

The little acts, unintentional as they were, were more than enough to set fire to the dragon.

Smaug let out an uncontrollable groan and dipped his head down again to lick across Bilbo's bleeding lips. His soft, wet tongue sent shivers down Bilbo's spine, and the little creature beneath the great beast let out a sharp moaned.

He helplessly  _moaned_.

It was this time that the master of the house completely lost control. Smaug barred his teeth and set to make the hobbit his once and for all.

"You will be mine, and mine alone..."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> I wrote this chapter a long time ago but only had just posted it here. A couple of things happened between my writing of the last chapter and this one. Should you be interested, read on!
> 
> 1.) I took a train to London to the World Premiere of Star Trek: Into Darkness and met Benedict Cumberbatch. If you think that man is smooth when he moves on screen, you obviously needs to see him live. He was so incredibly handsome, and just the way he moves - gosh! I'd compare it to gliding in chocolate, don't care if it's cheesy!
> 
> 2.) I also flew from England to New Zealand on a 14-days Hobbit/Lord of the Rings Tour (Red Carpet Tours). Went to all the filming sites (well, those I was sure WB wasn't going to cut my head off if I set foot there), met and chatted with Trevor Bau (Martin Freeman's stunt), Mark Hadlow (Dori), Jed Brophy (Nori), and Sir Richard Taylor of Weta Workshop! Oh and I also got The One Ring's inscription tattooed onto my back!


	4. "Just the two of us against the rest of the world..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> Thank you so much for the reviews!
> 
> On a side note, it occurred to me while reading through the reviews of this fic on ff.net that Smaug may appear rather Sherlocky. So to clarify: yes, this is intentional, and yes, if you read on, you'll find out why...
> 
> Here comes the smut~

Smaug slid his hand under Bilbo's mithril mail and yanked it off his body with a satisfied groan. The mail was casted against a wall and the rings of mithril echoed their cries when it landed, but Bilbo could not care less. Still tightly lip-locked with the dragon, both of the hobbit's hands were tangled in his hair, tousling the dark curls, feeling every bit of that well-shaped skull, oh what a beautiful skull...

His partner grunted into their kiss, and he sucked on Bilbo's lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, and the hobbit let him. The feeling of the dragon's wet, warm tongue lapping blood off his lip was more than ecstatic, it was erotic, and the hobbit felt the exciting pleasure running up his spine. He writhed under the other's strong body and buckled up his hips, desperate for more contact. A low rumble of laughter filled his ears.

"Feisty, aren't we?" Smaug whispered into his ear, and Bilbo's whimpers quickly turned to cries as the dragon's glorious lips enclosed around the tip of his sensitive ear. The practiced tongued dipped into the clefts of the shell, and Bilbo shuddered. Smaug sucked hard and began to rake his teeth along the outline of his ears, extracting helpless cries from the little hobbit who clawed his fingers down the beast's back.

Smaug's hands that were previously clasped around his jaws began to roam his body. The long, clever fingers slithered down his neck, traced his bare chest, and made their way down his slim waist, as if determined to study each and every single crevices on his body. Bilbo let out a small purr of satisfaction.

"Hmm... You like that, don't you?"

The dragon's mouth left his ear and Bilbo gasped at the loss. Suddenly, however, the hobbit was forced to let out a high pitched yelp as the warm mouth enclosed right on one of his nipples. Bilbo's back arched up immediately on reflex, and he cried out in desperation. Smaug's other hand was now roaming his abdomen, and slowly making its way down to the rim of his scarlet briefs...

It must have been the wine... Because after that, Bilbo's mind became somewhat clouded. He briefly remembered his scarlet briefs being taken away at some point, and that he was left lying splayed, naked, an opened offer to the dragon.

He also remembered Smaug finally removing all of his garments, and how glorious the beast had looked, bathed in the glow of candle light. He remembered how the dragon had enclosed his long, deft fingers around Bilbo's cock, how he curled his agile digits deep into Bilbo's secret entrance, and how it left the hobbit to sputter and gasped and choked out a name he was not quite sure belonged to the dragon...

John woke up in his bed with a strangled moan of Sherlock's name. His breathing came in short rasps, and he was panting hard. With one hand still pumping wildly at his cock, the other was inching two fingers deeper and deeper into his hole. John moaned and thrashed wildly against his bed, his chest heaving rapidly.

In the darkness of 221b Baker Street, John's pupils dilated as he gripped his hand tight around the hard rod of flesh between his legs and pulled his hand up and down it with abandon. His cock was fully erected, standing up in its unashamed glory against his stomach and shooting out strings of his guilty pleasure. John shook in uncontrollable excitement as he stared at the throbbing member, his eyes fixating on the slit at the tip that was slick with pre-come. The ex-army doctor licked his lips. The hard length of flesh and muscle kept appearing and disappearing from view as he worked his hand up and down it. Hot, white cum was spurting out of the tip and onto his cover as John mewled and knocked his head against the headboard.

"Sherlock... Sherlock!' He gasped and rutted against the duvet on his bed, the coarse material rubbing against his tender, sensitive cock sent sparks of electricity right into his core, and John groaned and sputtered in desperation, pumping his cock into his war-calloused hand even faster.

Then John sat up. Having worked as an army doctor, he was a lot more flexible than an average man his age. John grabbed at the length between his legs, bent down, and directed the glistening tip into his mouth. With a gasp of surprise, followed shortly by a desperate moan against the nub of flesh, John began to suckle at it slowly. Both his legs were spread wide on either side of him, and his balls rubbed deliciously against the coarse sheet, sending tears of pleasure to well up in the doctor's eyes.

His other hand reached behind him, and John leaned forward even more, lifting his backside up from where he sat. Four of his fingers were now working in and out of the hot hole, and John gave out a loud scream and he jerked. His index finger had finally brushed against his prostrate.

"Sherlock..." Joh gasped through the cock in his mouth, he ran his tongue along the flared edge of the crown and sucked  _hard_. "SHERLOCK!"

In reckless abandon, Dr. Watson took his own length in between his teeth and nibbled teasingly at it. The bed was now shaking violently as John thrashed ferociously on it, a vase was knocked down from the side table and smashed on the floor, but John could not care less. He sucked and bit and blew on the engorged head of his member, and slipped his entire first into his ass, clawing desperately at the prostrate and screaming even louder.

"SHERLOCK!"

The thought of his flatmate, his detective, his  _so-very-desirable-yet-so-oblivious-to-it_  Sherlock made John's length jerk hard. The crown at the thick head flared open the widest John had ever felt. With a push, John groaned, raked his teeth down his cock's underside and dipped the tip of his tongue right into the flared opening; he sucked, hard.

It was maddening.

The pleasure which  _exploded_  within him was enough to make a lesser man come right there and then on the spot, but John Watson was no lesser man. Instead, he slammed his fist even harder into his ass with a scream, raked his nails against the taut walls, and rubbed - rubbed  _intently_  at that one sensitive spot which sent him over oblivion every time he so much as brushed against it.

John threw his head back against the headboard and howled with intense carnal pleasure. The coarse fabric of his duvet was squeezed between his legs and rubbing against his balls that were slick with white, sticky cum. Amidst the burning ecstasy, John's squeezed shut eyes and ringing ears prevented him from noticing that a tall, dark form in his long, black coat had entered the door. The figured stared in silence, but the pair of blue-green eyes that stared unblinking at John were wide in utter surprise...-

Surprise...Which slowly melted into a pool of darkened pleasure...

"Bilbo..."

The hobbit opened his eyes again at the deep purr of the dragon. Despite being inexplicably aroused, he blinked.

Did he just blank out?

To Bilbo, the vision moments ago was real. Real enough to get him thinking of how familiar the place...-

"Ah!"

Bilbo cried as Smaug rammed his hot length deep into his ass. He could feel the thick crown brushing hard against his prostrate, and the hobbit's eyes rolled back into his head. Both his legs were now on either sides of Smaug's shoulders, allowing the dragon to have the perfect view of his groin. The dragon chuckled, and leant down to kiss him again right between his balls and his abused holes. He licked and sucked and bit mercilessly as Bilbo let out wild screams, slamming his groin up in reckless abandon into the dragon's experience mouth.

"I-" he panted, "I can't-"

"Good." Smaug droned, his voice thick with lust, "Come for me, my little halfling..."

On that note, Smaug began slamming his cock repeatedly up into Bilbo's ass at a mind-blowing pace. His hand gripped tightly around the hobbit's weeping cock and he pumped mercilessly, his thumb pushed against the flared opening atop Bilbo's red, hypersensitive crown and kneaded, and he bent down to suck  _hard_  at Bilbo's balls.

Bilbo threw his head back against the feather pillows as Smaug finally hit his prostrate square on the spot for the sixth time. His throat let out the most desperate, the most euphoric cry as he came hard in long white strings of cum which couldn't burst through the tip of his cock fast enough. The hobbit stared with bewildered eyes at his own member as it contracted and convulsed and shot out more white liquid than he'd ever seen in the many times he had pleasured himself in the comfort of Bag End. His cock trembled still standing up, and the cover beneath it was pooled with his hot cum. Smaug jerked and rutted and rammed into him a few more times, before the great beast finally let out animalistic growl. His shaft twitched in Bilbo's burning hole, and he launched his scorching cum right into Bilbo's filled up ass, causing the liquid be squeezed out through where their skins met with obscene squirting sounds.

Bilbo panted, breathing hard, his chest still heaving. His skin was covered in cool sweat and his vision blurred. Smaug slid out of him with relative ease and rolled to his side, Bilbo's brain was still too numbed for him to register much.

They both lay unspeaking for a moment, letting their heavy breaths and decreasing heart rates do the talking. Finally, however, Bilbo rolled to his side to face the world's only consulting dragon, it was all still a blur, but he knew he had to speak.

"That was fucking amazing." The hobbit breathed. Somewhere deep in his mind, he briefly wondered where the jargon had come from. However, all thoughts dissipated once Smaug swung an arm over his hip and drew him close.

" _...Just the two of us against the rest of the world._ " The dragon whispered into his hair.

Bilbo did not know what the beast meant, but he was contented with snuggling close and burying his face into the dark haired man's chest, breathing in his familiar scent. So the hobbit fell asleep, and deep in slumber, he finally realized what, or rather  _who_  the dragon smelled like...


	5. Into Darkness

 

**Chapter 5 is up!**

* * *

Thorin tossed and turned in his bed restlessly. The King’s handsome features contorted in discomfort as nightmares continued to plague his mind.

All he could see was a great, big fire, the flames roaring as high as the ceiling of Erebor’s grand hall -- and in the middle of it all was the little halfling, _his_ little halfling!

_Bilbo!_

He called out, shouted, but the words were caught in his throat no matter how loud he screamed. He reached out desperately for the halfling, but something, something great and dark with gigantic black wings thew him back.

_“If you think you’re safe in Esgaroth, you’re wrong.”_

A deep voice echoed, and Thorin drew to a halt at the strange, nauseating familiarity of it. He listened.

 _“You are a pawn, Thorin Oakenshield.” --_ the voice continued, _“You can’t even guarantee the safety of your own company...”_

As if resurfacing from a river, Thorin woke with a gasp. A candle was still lit by his bed table, and his gaze immediately fell upon a mysterious figure cladded in a long, dark coat standing at the doorway. Thorin’s hand flew to Orcrist, and he drew the great sword out of its sheath, pointing it at the intruder.

“Who are you?” The King drew himself up.

A small laugh was heard, rumbling in the stranger’s chest as he stepped into the light, a hood shielding his face.

“My name,” said the tall figure as he lowered the hood of his cloak, “Is Smaug.”

Dark curls fell about his elegant countenance, and the dip of his cupid’s bow accentuated the alluring angularity of his face. The intruder’s slanted, golden eyes held Thorin’s with as much pride and arrogance as they did one hundred years ago.

Thorin froze dead on the spot, and the man of otherworldly beauty grinned, his sharp cheekbones creating an eerie shadow on his striking face.

“Have I got your attention now?”

Suddenly, Orcrist in Thorin’s hands flashed. Faster than lightning, the great sword cut right through -- thin air -- the exact same spot where the stranger’s torso should have been!

“Usurper!”

The King bellowed as his target magically disappeared. Orcist was readied in his hands as his eyes searched for signs of where the dragon in disguise could be hiding. Suddenly, a faint snicker was heard behind him, and Thorin whirled around just in time to throw up his blade to fend off a long weapon that was aimed right at his neck!

“This is sorcery!” Thorin drew in a sharp breath, his eyes stared unbelieving at the shapeshifter who disappeared in the blink of an eye, “Dark magic.” The King’s eyes narrowed, “Who do you serve, dragon?” Thorin barked, “Could it be the Necromancer?”

Smaug scoffed as he looked down at Thorin.

“Oh, I may be on the same side as The Necromancer,” he sneered, “But don’t think for one second I am one with him.” The tall man tilted up his chin, and let out a groan as Dwalin bolted with a war cry into the room, axes in his hands.

“I’ll get ye, ye filthy, maggot-ridden lizard!”

“Dwalin, son of Fundin,” Smaug rolled his eyes as Dwalin continued to charge at him, “Don’t talk out loud. You lower the intelligence of the whole village.”

Once more, the great Orcrist was swung right at the tall figure of Smaug, but once again, the dragon brandished his long, thin weapon, and fended the elven sword and Dwalin’s axes right off with ease. Smaug sighed as he gazed at the fuming Thorin, and then Dwalin who had been knocked unconscious to the floor by the rebounding of his own weapons. 

“Are you going to swing that sword at me again, over and over, until your arm weakens...?” The dragon eyed the King wearily, “Clearly you want to.”

“Where is Bilbo?” Thorin would not relent.

Smaug smiled slyly.

“He is sleeping.”

“ _Where_ is he!”

“He is safe...” The dragon droned as he casually polished the long, thin violin bow in his hand, “He is in my chamber.”

“You captured him?”

“It was his own choosing when he came to me,” Smaug arched his brows, “I never asked him to.”

Thorin halted, his deep blue eyes widened. 

There was silence.

“...Why does he choose you?” Finally, the King questioned in a quiet tone.

Smaug sneered.

“Because I am better.”

“At what?”

“Everything.”

Thorin let out a string of curses in infuriation, but it was not long before his calm and collected façade was once again resumed.

“Human disguise?” The King’s tone was haughty as he eyed the ethereal being, “So this is how you were able to get close to Dale without anybody noticing. You transform. Impressive.”

“Isn’t it? No one ever gets to me... and no one ever will”

“I did.”

“I let you. You’ve come the closest. Now you’re in my way.” 

“I intend to take back Erebor, whether you like it or not,” Thorin bit back, “Enough people have died.”

“Boring,” Smaug yawned, “Do you not have anything else to offer than an empty proclamation, Thorin Oakenshield?”

“I have no intention of offering!” Thorin retorted hotly, his blue eyes glaring, “I intend to take back what is rightfully mine!”

“Oh but you forget...” the dragon sent him a tantalizing smile, “ _I_ have in possession something which _you_ desire.”

“Bilbo...--” 

“What say we trade?”

“What do you want?” Thorin bit out through gritted teeth, realization beginning to dawn that he was fighting a long lost battle, “Name it.”

“--You and your company to leave Esgaroth and return to whence you came,” The dragon droned in a smooth tone, “For the line of Durin to swear never again to return to Erebor, and for your people to never again question the might of Smaug the Magnificent. I give you until sundown of the day after tomorrow. In reciprocation, I shall return Mr. Baggins to you.”

A moment of silence swept over the room, as the consulting dragon patiently waited for defeat to fully sink into Thorin’s mind.

“I accept these terms...” The King’s voice came out as a harsh whisper.

“Good, now swear it.”

“I, Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thráin, Son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain...--”

“--King Under the mountain _in Exile_.”

“...Swear an oath that the heirs of Durin shall never again trespass the territory of the last Great Dragon of Middle Earth, from the evening of the day after tomorrow.” Thorin bit out, hatred echoing in his words.

“A wise choice, Thorin Oakenshield. I see all thirteen dwarves are still in Esgaroth. If they do not leave by sundown on the appointed day, _your Majesty_ , I will know it.”

“Heirs of Durin do not lie.” Thorin retorted bluntly, “Erebor is yours.”

“Thank you, King in Exile.”

“I have fulfilled your terms. Now fulfill mine.”

“Well, Thorin Oakenshield,” the dragon smirked, “It seems apt to return Mr. Baggins to you. After all, no company should go down without its burglar.”

Upon his final words, a strong gale erupted where the dragon stood, and windstorm swept into the King’s chamber. Thorin shielded his arms over his tightly shut eyes.

When he opened them again, the spot where Smaug once stood was replaced with a silk-lined stretcher. Upon it, a figure soundly slept, and Thorin’s heart skipped beat.

“ _Bilbo!_ ” The King rushed to the slumbering halfling, and with the utmost care and gentleness, began to inspect for any traces of wound. The King let out a sigh of relieve a moment later, however, as the hobbit appeared perfectly unharmed, only he was deep in slumber.

A rustling sound coming from the floor behind him told Thorin that Dwalin had regained consciousness. The King Under the Mountain turned to face his warrior friend, his expression darkening.

“M’Lord?”

"Send word to the Elven King and the Men of Lake Town that they will be receiving their fair share of Erebor's treasure..." The King's eyes were ablaze, fury igniting within the pair of deep blue orbs so unlike the coolness they bore but a minute ago, "The day after tomorrow, we ride to Erebor at dawn. If this is to end in fire, we all burn together!"


	6. Ode to a Death

Like a King would lounge on his throne, the magnificent being unfurled his claws as he stretched slowly atop the mountains of gold. His long, shiny nails raked the gold coins, caressing their smooth and cool texture as he relished in the luxury that never failed to satisfy his craving for all things beautiful every time he graced them with his sight.

Never... Until now.

A frown appeared on Smaug’s lips as his golden eyes flashed around Durin’s Hall, taking in the sight of glittering gems and diamonds with disdain. The Arkenstone lay within his reach, and yet as he set his eyes on it, the brilliance of the Heart of the Mountain seemed to have dimmed.

Precious stones were beautiful, flattering, and naught but lies.

The dragon twisted his being adeptly, slowly, and upon the final knock of the thrush on the keyhole beyond the halls, the last light of the day witness the beast gliding into the shape of...A man.

He was rested in all refined dignity atop a plush divan of deep scarlet. His porcelain-white skin glowing in candle light as he closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto the rich fabric. Silky, dark curls framed his unearthly face; sharp nose line, angular jaws, and impossibly high cheekbones.

Ethereal, daunting, and everything alluring.

 

He wanted.

He craved.

Oh he desired that which gold and gems and diamonds could not satisfy!

It was not a mere lust of the flesh, no. It was a yearning for a something so small, something so breakable, something _so very_ exquisite!

...Oh how he longed for Bilbo Baggins!

 

The dark haired man shifted so he was lying faced up, his golden eyes tracing the outline of the chandelier above. The sheet of mithril woven silk that rested atop his chest slid off his frame, and there the King Under the Mountain lay in naked beauty, basking in the pure gold candlelight that kissed and caressed him hungrily.

Oh the sweet little halfling...

The dragon let his eyes fall shut once more. The long lashes shutting out the glaring gold of his eyes, and his hands began to roam, caressing, touching, _delighting_ in the joy of the flesh of someone who was not there...

...The scent of earth and flower that clung to his skin, the wicked childlike innocence that was his demeanor, and _oh_ , the fire that burned like the warmest summer ice-storm in a roaring tempest! He was but a dream’s reach away...

He lusted, he craved, he wanted the feeling of that warm skin under his palms again. He wanted to thread his fingers in the curly locks of molten copper, trace his lips along those curves, have the scent of sawdust and fire filled his craving nostrils. 

He wanted -- oh no, he _needed_ to break him.

Smaug’s fingers clenched on the fabric of the divan, his eyes screwed tightly shut and the dragon let out a strangled groan.

He _would_ break the halfling, have him beg for mercy over and over. He would tarnish that flower, tear off its innocent petals with his teeth, and drink the sweet nectar from its secret core that only him and him alone had known! 

He would make the hobbit sing in pained delight, make him wish that now, more than ever, it seemed rich to die. Make him plead to drink hemlock and leave the world, unseen... And fade away, into the forest dim.

So fair, so breakable he was, and oh _so_ tempting to be broken! He would latch his bare hands onto that pale neck, dig his fingers into that soft flesh and rip him apart! Oh that would satisfy his hunger, would it not? It certainly would. He would sink his teeth into that unblemished flesh, and with that, bring the deepest lust to life. 

Oh the craving, the desire... 

Bilbo Baggins was his, and his alone, and he would not let him be tainted by any other hands but his own. Not even if it meant crumpling the halfling into nothingness with his own hands to secure him for himself.

* * *

 

Smaug gasped. His eyes flew open as he resurfaced, and again he found himself bathing in the glow of the candlelight.

 

As much as it was tempting to brand his mark of ownership now and forevermore on that fair skin, the halfling was not with him.

...He had given him away...

He would give _all_ the gold in Erebor to have Bilbo Baggins back in his grasp once more!

But not for long, not for long now he would have him back by his side.

Now... Should he wake, or sleep?


	7. The enemy's thirst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably only about two more chapters to go, guys!
> 
> Yes, I understand some of you are confused about this whole multi-universe thing, but all will be revealed in the final chapter!

* * *

Bilbo sat on a cot with his head hanging low. His eyes fixed, unseeing at the floor as his brain tried to numbly process what Thorin had just told him. The dwarf had left to (begrudgingly) meet with the Elven King who arrived at lake town to discuss their 'plans' on how to deal with the dragon.

...Smaug had used him.

Bilbo bit his lips and screwed his eyes closed.

...It had all been nothing but a Great Game. How silly of him to have thought that perhaps the dragon had cared. Why, why should he ever care for Bilbo? He was just a halfling, after all, nothing to compare with the magnificent beast.

Bilbo let out a sigh and got up to make himself some tea.

Thorin had told him about it all. How the dragon appeared in his human form, offered Bilbo back to Thorin in exchange for him and his... _treasure_  to be left alone!

Bilbo yanked the cupboard door opened a little harder than necessary.

...And Thorin!  _Deceitful_  Thorin used a loophole in their negotiation, and was going to join hands with the elves and the men of Lake town to takeover the mountain  _before_  the evening of the day after the next! He had known dwarves to be tricksy, but for such foul play to come from the King of Erebor himself. Bilbo had never been so disappointed.

He reached for a pouch containing the tea-leaves and loosened up the strings.

And Smaug...

It was not sadness that he felt, nor was it hurt. He wasn't to expect much humanity from a dragon anyway. It was rather...  _betrayal_ , perhaps, that was gnawing at him at the moment.

Yes, he felt betrayed.

He dug his hand into the pouch, and Bilbo's finger caught a small strip of parchment in the knitted bag; the Hobbit's brows furrowed as his deft fingers pulled it out.

In the lamp light, the little strip torn from a parchment read:

' _Enter through the main entrance. Come at once if convenient' - SM._

_P.S. 'If inconvenient, come anyway,' - SM._

For a moment, he stood rooted on the spot, stunned.

_Smaug..._

Then, in the blink of an eye, Bilbo all but snorted to himself as he casted the bit of paper into the fire. Did that  _bastard_ REALLY expect him to go find him after all that had happened? Oh how cocky! - He slammed the cupboard door shut. - The beast probably thought the sun and the moon went round and round himself! Bilbo would bet  _three_  of his silver spoons that that was as modest as he got!

He bit his lips as he stared at the little piece of parchment curling into a burnt strip of brown in the fire. The flames mockingly danced in his eyes, as the ring in his waistcoat pocket throbbed.

' _You're a Took, Mr. Baggins,'_ it teased, ' _You are made to be an adventurer...'_

For a moment, Bilbo stood still, but then relented.

"Yes..."

_'Any good?'_

He furrowed his brows again as he took out the golden ring and gazed at it's smooth and beautiful texture. At that moment, the Baggins in him seemed to have fled, and Bilbo sneered back at it.

" _Very_  good!"

_'Seen lots of injuries then?'_  It cooed,  _'Violent beings.'_

The images of the incident with the trolls, the ill treatment of the elves, and most of all, the orcs and the wargs and Azog who nearly took all their lives came rushing back into his mind.

"Well, yes..."

_'Bit of trouble, too, I bet?'_

_True..._

"Of course, yes", Bilbo sighed, resigned. He did not want any more trouble, thank you very much. Hands coming up to rub his face, he replied as the Baggins in him returned, "Enough for a lifetime." Far too much.

The ring went silent for a moment, and in that heart beat, Bilbo nearly regretted his response, but it was then when the voice sounded again.

_'Want to see some more?'_

And he'd be DAMNED if he didn't see the end of this!

Bilbo gnashed his teeth in anger and slipped the ring onto his finger.

"Oh, God, yes!"

* * *

When Smaug flew him back to Thorin's camp, his clothes were left behind, and so now Bilbo was wearing nothing but a pair of worn trousers, and his mithril mail. It was cold outside and his teeth were chattering, so when the hobbit finally reached the entrance to Smaug's secret lair beyond the chamber filled with gold, he could not help but relish in its warmth.

The room still looked the same way it did. Golden, lavish, lit with hundreds of candles, and its every surface decorated with blood red rose petals. The master of the room stood with his back to him when Bilbo entered, but with the clink of the shutting door, he turned around slowly.

Smaug was as strikingly handsome as the last time Bilbo saw him, and despite the anger that was bubbling within his chest, he could not find it in his heart to tear his gaze off the being's exquisite face and marble white skin that was showing from under the collar of his top.

The dragon greeted him with his seductive smile that Bilbo had come to hate, and cocked his head to the side as he took note of Bilbo's clothing.

"Are you really going to keep that?" His deep voice resounded, as he gestured to the mithril mail Bilbo was wearing.

Without thinking, the hobbit caught himself haughtily replying.

"Thorin likes it."

Smaug shook his head, his dark brown curls tousling as he smiled a winning smile.

"...No he doesn't," he looked Bilbo in the eye mockingly, "and you know it."

Bilbo swore and struggled to yank the hateful piece of armor off his body.

"Apparently, nobody likes it!" He said heatedly, "Now, if you would, I request you return me my clothes."

He thought Smaug was going to object, pull more tricks off his sleeves perhaps, but what he did not expect was the tall man shrugging, bending down to grab his garments that lay neatly folded on a stool nearby, and tossing them back to him.

Bilbo glared distrustingly at the consulting dragon as he put on his clothes, and when he finished tying the sash around his waist, he began again.

"Well, what is it you called me out here for?"

Smaug only shrugged.

"I was bored."

Immediately, Bilbo was at his side, and before the beast knew what was happening, the hobbit's little fist had collided hard with his jaw.

" _That_  was for what you've done!"

"...I never would have expected this to come from a Baggins."

"I'm a TOOK, and I have bad days! And how dare you-HOW DARE YOU?"

With all his strength, he pushed off the dragon and leant on a divan, breathing heavily.

"How could you do that?" Bilbo whispered as he glanced up to look Smaug in the eye, "How?"

"It had to be done."

"Don't you have an ounce of shame? Or perhaps sentiment?"

"Sentiment," The man shook his head and sneered, "Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side."

"You sold me to Thorin."

"Were you ever mine to sell?"

Bilbo opened his mouth to protest, but went silent. Smaug's golden eyes pierced through him as the detective slowly paced towards Bilbo.

"I got Thorin Oakenshield to cower before me, swear never to return to his homeland again," Smaug mused, wicked satisfaction flickering in his beautiful eyes, "Don't you think that was clever, how I did that?"

"I don't CARE how you did it, Smaug," Bilbo retorted, "I want to know  _why_."

When no reply came from the dragon, Bilbo sighed and continued.

"Thorin plans on opening a war with you."

What the hobbit did not expect was Smaug's reply.

"Yes, I was anticipating that," the dragon said easily and shrugged at Bilbo's bewilderment, "Which is why I had also planned on encountering them and securing you for myself on the day."

_Oh..._

So... he really was not going to abandon Bilbo after all?

_Oh, so he planned on cheating as well after all!_

"It is what you want, isn't it?" Smaug smirked as he bent down to trail a finger down Bilbo's face, "To be by my side..."

Bilbo slapped him hard in the face.

"Fu-* _cough!_ "

Walking in the cold air outside seemed to have taken its toll on him, and Bilbo coughed hard, but would not stop as he glared back into the pair of golden eyes.

"You betrayed my trust!" He yelled, "You resent Thorin but you are nothing different from him, so deceitful, so  _predictable_."

He knew immediately that he ought to not have said what he just did, for Bilbo saw anger -  _intense_  anger flaring in Smaug's golden eyes as the candlelight within the room all went out, leaving only a pair of glaring ember staring back at him.

"You will regret your words," -Smaug's voice had changed, it boomed up into the growl of the gigantic beast once more, "Halfling!"

Bilbo immediately spun on his heels and ran out into the great hall.

He had only gotten as far as a breath away into the hall piled with gold when a pillar behind him collapsed with an exploding crash as the scaly beast rammed into it. With a deafening roar, Smaug chased him and Bilbo dug beneath crates of golden armor. In only a second, another pillar came down, and in his mind, the hobbit feared for a minute that the wrath of the dragon may cause the entirety of Erebor to collapse. For now, however, he was concentrated on saving his own neck.

Using his small frame and speed to his advantage, Bilbo evaded the scorching flames that the great dragon trailed after him. He dug into piles of coin and emerged on the other side, scrambled beneath stone ledges to avoid the bright, orange flames. He tripped on crystal jars, sending its content tumbling down the mountains of gold. He darted forward, about to reach a doorframe, when suddenly the back of his tunic was caught by a massive claw, and he was pinned to the floor. Bilbo let out a yelp as he crashed down onto the hard stone tile, the heat from the beast's body burning his back. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, knowing that that moment was going to be his last-

What the hobbit did not expect, however, was to hear a small rumble of laugher, and to feel a hot breath running down the back of his neck. Not a trail of scorching flames, mind you, just a regular, human breath. He craned his neck back to look up at his captor, and immediately his eyes went wide.

Smaug in his human form was towering over him, and the seductive grin that the beautiful man was sending him was threatening to stop his heart.

Bilbo gasped as he got flipped over.

The tall man had him pinned to the floor. His long fingers planted on the tiles on either side of his head, and his knees locked Bilbo's hips in place. The hobbit let out a whimper.

"You have missed this..." Smaug lowered his head to purred into Bilbo's ear. He planted a gentle kiss on the hobbit's cheek.

"Admit it. The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins. Just the two of us against the rest of the world!"

At the sound of his words, Bilbo could not help but let out a gentle gasp as he finally understood what the phrase had meant.  _Oh, Smaug was right... He was right all along._  Bilbo thought numbly. _He had wanted this, this excitement to course through his veins again!_

_Desire_  flooded him.

The dragon-man's hands trailed down small body and Bilbo groaned, throwing his head back. Smaug chuckled and lay his hands on bilbo feet, stroking at the thick hair that grew there, and Bilbo swore he could just  _die_  at that moment, when suddenly-

"This is not really my area..."

He heard the dragon whisper, and immediately Bilbo raised his head, only to see Smaug brandishing a small blade, and was trailing it down the sole of his foot with a pensive look on his face.

"But I like my hobbits clean shaven..."


	8. Passion

**Author's note: Yes, I'm sorry! I'm truly and incredibly sorry for disappearing off the surface of the Earth. Thank you so much for all the kind reviews yet again! Okay, I'll leave my rambling to the end of the chapter - I've brought you something steamy!**

**[Btw, if your username is 'BlueCottonCat', you are NOT allowed to read this one my dear!]**

* * *

"My word, Martin! What dainty legs you've got!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up!"

The hobbit groaned in exasperation as he sat in his trailer. In front of him, Benedict was trying to suppress a bout of laughter that was threatening to surface, his bright cyan eyes flickering with mirth as he eyed Martin's hands rolling up his trousers.

"Honestly, Ben. Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Andy's back at Pinewood in London," the taller man shrugged.

"Yeah? Don't try to fool me. I've been here longer than you, wanker!" Martin raised his brows and tapped his nose with his finger, "You don't need a second unit director to do mocap, now get lost."

Benedict tutted but did not move, his eyes were fixated on a spot on Martin's left foot where a patch of hair was beginning to grow.

"You need to take care of that."

"Heather's had enough with my wretched feet for the week, she's not shaving them again till Monday."

"I could lend her a hand with that." The Sherlock actor grinned and got up, stalking his way towards Martin, a razor blade in his hand.

"What, Ben? No!- NO!- Get your filthy hands off my feet!"

"I'm not playing footsie with you, idiot. Don't be such a virgin, I'm only going to shave this bit..."

"Pete's calling scene in few minutes, now get the fuck out of my trailer so I could get ready!"

Benedict snorted.

"You're not fooling anybody. They're still setting up the rain machine in K-Stage when I last checked, Pete's not calling anybody for at least another half an hour. Now get back into your seat."

Martin could only groan.

* * *

"Mmmm..." Smaug breathed onto his bare legs as he finally lifted the blade from Bilbo's feet.

Bilbo felt his breath catching. He was standing upright throughout the whole ordeal, but he doubted his legs would be able to keep him up for much longer. Smaug was knelt before him, nuzzling Bilbo's now thin middle with his handsome face. His sharp nose gently poking the hobbit in the stomach in a way that should not have felt  _this_  good.

With shaven feet, Bilbo felt exposed, sensitive, and perhaps a little hot. He looked down at the wave of soft curls splayed atop the man's head, and in that moment he wanted so badly to touch them.

He did.

Bilbo tentatively carded his fingers through the soft curls, letting himself relish in their waxy texture. For a moment, Smaug stilled all his movements, and Bilbo cursed at himself as he held his breath, silently praying that he had not made the wrong move.

However, Smaug let out a satisfied groan and tugged Bilbo's hips closer, sinking his face into the hobbit's middle as he let his hands drop to gently massage the hobbit's feet. Bilbo bit down on his tongue, but was unable to suppress a soft, guilty moan from escaping his lips.

Smaug snickered.

"You like that, don't you?"

The hobbit was about to nod, when his moans turned into a strangled gasp as Smaug quickly rose up and captured the tip of Bilbo's cold ear between his warm and inviting lips. He flicked out his hot tongue and teasingly licked at the shell, and Bilbo let out a suppressed cry as he clung on for dear life to the man's shoulders, burying his face in Smaug's chest and inhaling his unique scent.

Then their lips met, and Smaug tasted like a blazing fire, so dangerous and destructive and yet so intoxicating. Bilbo breathed shakily as the beast held his face between both hands and angled his face to the side, before leaning down to kiss him deeply... The hobbit ran his nimble fingers through the tresses of the man's hair, and gently stroked the fine, porcelain skin of his face. His thumbs brushed against the high cheekbones and smooth jawline, and Bilbo purred at how amazing it felt when their lips molded together.

Smaug pushed impossibly closer to him, and Bilbo almost backed away from the kiss with a squeal as he felt something. Something thick, and large, and impressively  _long_  hidden under the thin layer of the dragon's brief. He pulled away but resisted the urge to blush.

A small rumble of laughter could be heard above his head.

"My, my... Do you like what you've found, my little halfling?" he bent down and breathed against the side of Bilbo's face, and the halfling felt himself shudder.

"Now..." Smaug continued, his golden eyes searching Bilbo's as he grinned predatorily, "For your insolence, shall I tear off your clothes with my teeth and ram into you against this pillar? Or shall I bend you over an anvil and have my way with you until you cry out for mercy?"

Bilbo went still. His warm eyes stared back into Smaug's golden ones in shock. The dragon cocked his head to the side, but then suddenly Bilbo sank to the ground, gripped the Smaug's hips and with all his power yanked him to his face. The hobbit darted out his tongue and pressed it heavily and wetly against the bulge that was becoming more and more prominent through the thin silk. He mouthed over the fabric repeatedly and let out a little satisfied moan.

Smaug threw his head back and released an animalistic growl. Bilbo grinned mischievously as he undid the man's trousers and reached out to capture the hard rod of flesh between his thin little lips. His honey-coloured eyes flicked up to examine Smaug who had braced himself against the pillar. Golden eyes that met his were filled with disbelief, and Bilbo could not resist chuckling at the thought that  _this_ , indeed, was the undoing of Smaug the Terrible.

Oh, if only Thorin had known this, he would have been looking for a seducer rather than a burglar!

He leant down once more and took the whole length into his mouth, sucking on it mercilessly. His tongue teased at the slit at the crown of the dragon's engorged cock, dipping into the fold and tasting the milky white substance that had leaked out. He could feel Smaug trembling, and when the halfling chanced a glance up, it was as if the foundations of Erebor itself was going to collapse underneath the force which the dragon clawed against the pillars. His handsome face was painted with the most arousing expression.

Bilbo could also feel himself getting harder and harder by minutes, but this new found power was what made him keep his own flames of desires at bay. Instead, the hobbit gripped his little hands on the dragon's hips even harder and buried his face into Smaug's groin, where he sucked and licked and mercilessly teased his balls and cock. It wasn't until Bilbo felt some hot liquid squirting onto his cheek that the dragon let out a desperate howl, fisted his hair and yanked Bilbo off him!

* * *

Cicadas chirped, and the night's wind gently blew on his face, yet Thorin Oakenshield was unable to find rest.

"Will you ever  _stop_  pacing, dwarf?"

Thorin spun around to the source of the voice, and found himself in a company of an unexpected guest in the dead of night. The King sneered.

"And what are  _you_  doing here?"

Thranduil smirked, his starlight-washed hair shimmered in the dark.

"If you miss the halfling, why not go after him?"

"What do you-"

"I never took you for a coward, Thorin Oakenshield," The Elven-King cut in, "But perhaps I was wrong."

There was silence. The night wind ghosted past the desolate land where they stood, and finally Thorin sighed.

"Why don't you just go back to your fancy tent, elf? I am tired of your company."

"All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage, Thorin Oakenshield."

"Oh so  _you_  know about love?"

Thranduil arched one elegant brow.

"Perhaps I do."

"Alas!" Thorin laughed bitterly, "And perhaps  _you_  should know best not to meddle with a dragon in its den?"

"Do not speak to me of dragon fire-"

"I know it's wrath and ruin," Thorin mocked him, "Tell me, Thranduil, Elvenking... Those great serpents of the North that you spoke of, were they those that slithered within Gundabad? Oh..." Thorin eyed him pointedly, "Was that where  _you_  failed to protect your wife? Was that when you lost her to the-"

"I will cut your insolent tongue, dwarf!"

"If you so badly want your share of the treasure, your white gems of pure starlight," Thorin sneered, "Why don't  _you_  go into that mountain and fetch that which belonged to your beloved?"

"Not my division."

With an angry swish of his robes, Thranduil disappeared into the night, leaving the Dwarven-King to ponder quietly on his own.

* * *

"Know your place, halfling!"

Smaug dug his claws into Bilbo's scalp and threw him off onto the cold stone floor.

The hobbit got up to his knees and raised his brow in a challenge.

"I thought that was where you wanted me to be," Bilbo countered.

Smaug was panting against a stone column, his golden pupils blown wide with lust and his clothing disheveled. Never before had the dragon looked so wild, so out of control. So desirable...

Bilbo's clothing wes in no better state. Smaug had torn most of it off when he fisted his hands in the hobbit's garments while Bilbo was on his knees, mouthing and licking and sucking on his hard length like there was no tomorrow. His loose collared shirt was shredded, and his trousers were so debauched they left little room for imagination. The hobbit licked his lips as he felt his own hardness touching the smooth stone floor, and saw that Smaug's eyes had followed where his hot flesh was resting.

"Touch yourself." Suddenly, the dragon said from his vantage point.

Bilbo stared up at him, blinking at the tall man.

"So that you could watch and enjoy yourself? I think not."

In the blink of an eye, Smaug launched himself onto him and Bilbo gasped. Long fingers ripped off his clothes without a care and short nails dug deliciously into his skin. Hot, sensual lips that knew their moves claimed his, and Bilbo let out a muffled moan as he felt his back hitting the stone floor and the man straddled his hips. The halfling bit down on his own lip until it bled, trying his best not to moan as their hardness brushed. Smaug snickered hotly into his ear as he thrusted against him repeatedly.

"Has nobody," thrust. "Ever told you," another thrust, "Not to play with fire?"

One particularly strong thrust and a deft finger which found its way to the entrance of his sacred hole made Bilbo throw his head back and scream in abandon. Smaug immediately yanked him back by his hair, making he hobbit writhe, sucking in cold air, completely lost in the intoxicating pain that the act had caused.

"Oh I think not", Smaug sneered as he prodded his digit at Bilbo's entrance, eliciting little screams from Bilbo "You started this wild war, halfling, you will forgive me if I finish it!"

And without further ado, the King Under the Mountain lifted up his small form and crashed Bilbo's back into a stone pillar. The hobbit's cry of pain quickly changed into moans of pleasure as three digits found their way to the puckered hole of his behind, and drove in, pumping in and out most obscenely.

"Oh Smaug! Smaug, the greatest of all calamities!"

Bilbo screams were a product of muddled trains of incoherent thoughts. Long fingers pumped mercilessly into his hole, impaling him, gracing that one deep spot inside of him that sent electric bolts flying behind his eyes every time it is touched. The dragon ravished his mouth, drinking down compliments that Bilbo fed him like a man dying of thirst. Smaug fucked his fingers up deep into Bilbo's arse, and bit out a groan as one of Bilbo's shaved feet brushed against his erection.

"That Oakenshield... has he ever touched you in this way?" His voice came out raspy and low, and perhaps the halfing found it seductive, for Smaug could see a jolt of excitement perking up the hobbit's already hard cock. He stared down at the weeping head and licked his lips.

"Tell me, halfing, who is your King?"

And Bilbo screamed his name again and again until his voice went hoarse. Smaug barred his teeth into a bestial grin and gripped tight on the hobbit's hips, lifting him up, before letting the small being slide down his hard body and impaling him with his hot, throbbing cock.

Bilbo's head was thrown back as he let out a desperate cry when Smaug started moving his hips and fucked his hardness up into him, grazing his pleasure spot at every thrust. The obscene sound of Smaug's heavy balls slapping against his stretched open hole as so loud that the two occupants of Erebor's great hall did not realised there was a third...

Thorin Oakenshield stood, dumbstruck at the heated scene playing out before him. The King's eyes widened when he saw the man-dragon sneaking his hand into Bilbo's torn waistcoat pocket that still hung around his waist, and brought out the one thing that Thorin desired the most.

The arkenstone!

Thorin made a move to shout, to sprint down the hall and claim it for his own. How long had the halfling had  _his_  treasure for and why did he keep it away from Thorin? However, before the heir of Durin could do anything rash or stupid, what the fire-drake did next snatched the breath out of Thorin entirely!

Smaug pulled out of Bilbo in one smooth slide and the halfling wailed at the emptiness. His wanton honeyed eyes searched golden ones, begging him to fill him up once more. Suddenly, the hobbit was forced to let out a sharp cry as he felt something cold... something hard and very cold working its way into his stretched entrance, and it was sinking deeper and deeper into him.

Smaug chuckled above his head.

"Now... if you thought you knew pleasure..."

A scream was torn from Bilbo's throat and  _intense, hot, white_  pleasure exploded behind his eyes and the hobbit saw sparks igniting as his eyes rolled back into his head. The dragon had resumed his original position and was gripping his thighs tight as he rammed repeatedly into Bilbo's abused hole. The smooth gem buried deep inside him was pressing, rubbing with impossible friction against  _the spot_  inside him, and Bilbo came.

-Only, he didn't.

The hobbit let out a desperate cry. He was stumbling upon the brink of achieving bliss, but was indelicately yanked back into a pool of frustrated lust as Smaug slipped something onto his cock. Something smooth, something golden, something inexplicably  _precious_!

The golden ring seemed to expanded on its own accord, and now it locked tightly at the base of Bilbo's cock, stopping him from coming, stopping him from screaming in abandon and letting his seeds squirt from his restrained, throbbing red member. Bilbo panted as Smaug looked down curiously to examine his handiwork with satisfaction. His cock jerked inside Bilbo and the halfling let out a sob.

"Touch yourself, halfing," thrust, "Do it or I will never grant it to you." Another thrust.

Bilbo whimpered and decided to let all his pride melt away in that moment as he wrapped his fingers around the head of his own length, pausing briefly to gasp at how amazing it felt, before gripping it tight and pumped up and down it furiously. He could feel Smaug's hungry grin on him, the beast's satisfied smirk; he could feel the ring laughing at him as he finally succumbed to desire!

"Smaug! Smaug!" Bilbo's face contorted in pleasure and his hoarse voice cried out the beast's name as the dragon started to set a punishing rhythm. The tall man backed him up against the same stone pillar and rammed his hot, hard cock into him, his sacks slapping Bilbo so hard it echoed throughout the hall. His grip on Bilbo's hips was vice tight, and the force and the speed which he drove up into him nearly bent Bilbo in half.

"Who is your King, halfing!"

"You! O' Smaug, only you!"

Electrifying sensations exploded from his cock when Smaug's clever fingers finally pulled the ring off, and Bilbo came the hardest he had ever come. His member sending milky white substance flying everywhere - some of it landing into a golden statue of a woman's mouth. Smaug drove into him and Bilbo eyes rolled back as he rode out his orgasm on the beast's hard shaft, moaning along the way.

Then Smaug came, filling Bilbo once again with his hot seeds. The hot, white liquid dripped down their legs and into the pile of gold beneath their feet. Bilbo gave a soft, uncomfortable whimper as the dragon slipped out of him, then suddenly he looked up into the great hall and found himself locking eye with a pair of unfathomable sapphires.

Thorin Oakenshield's expression was unreadable, and Bilbo gulped, unable to look away...

\- The Arkenstone was still buried deep inside his arse.

* * *

**Author's excuse:**   **Writer's block, life got in the way, the usual excuse you'll find anywhere - sorry...**  
 **So... if anybody's vaguely interested in my life - in between the last chapter and this one I somehow managed to 1-graduate, 2-start a master degree which is absolutely killing and stealing my fanfictions time, 3-Watch Richard Armitage half naked and dripping wet live on stage during the first showing of _The Crucible_ , 4- Get a hug from the man himself and still gloat about it.**

**That's pretty much it really! The next chapter will be the last, thank you every so much for sticking with me for this long! It means so much!**


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